


Jumping Over Hell

by Real_Life_Eeyore



Series: The Howling Commandos and Captain America [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Battle of Azzano (Marvel), Seizures, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-30 22:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Real_Life_Eeyore/pseuds/Real_Life_Eeyore
Summary: There’s a man who tears off his skin to reveal the face of a demon. Bucky wonders if the fat scientist beside him will peel off his own skin to reveal the devil himself.The Howling Commandos meet Captain America.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't planning on making a sequel but I realized I love the feeling of people liking my writing. Please enjoy the story.

It was all happening too quickly for his addled mind to comprehend. Steve wasn’t Steve anymore. Well he was but it was like someone else had stolen his face and sewed it onto another body. When he put his hands on Bucky's face it felt foreign; large and warm instead of the usual cold and skinny fingers.

“I got you Buck, don’t worry we’re almost out.” His voice was the same as this new Steve lead him across catwalks that stretched over fiery chasms that reminded him of the entrance to hell. Dum Dum had said that they would burn this place down but Bucky had never imagined himself inside it while it went up in flames.

There’s a man who tears off his skin to reveal the face of a demon. Bucky wonders if the fat scientist beside him will peel off his own skin to reveal the devil himself.

There’s a 50 foot drop down into the flames and Steve is on the wrong side. 

“Just go! Get out of here!” Steve is screaming over the roar of the fire and the one thing that is certain in this twisted world is that Bucky will never leave Steve behind.

“No not without you!” The words wrench their way out of Bucky's mouth and carry across the pit. His hands are shaking and all he can do is look out at Steve, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in that they’ll make it out of here together.

Since they were kids “I’m with you till the end of the line” had become their thing. They said it as a way to reassure each other but this was different. 

Steve was no stranger to near death experiences but they were all in the slow and hollow grip of sickness, not the sudden ferocity that came with burning to death. Bucky had held a nearly dead Steve in his arms before but never had he looked into his best friends eyes and wondered if he was about to watch him plummet to his death. 

He jumped. Steve Rogers who could barely carry groceries up two flights of stairs to their apartment jumped over a flaming abyss. Steve made it by and inch. One of his hands managed to grab to steal railing but his feet were left dangling over the pits of hell. Bucky surged forward and helped pull him up and over the railing. Steve managed to tumble over the railing and land right on top of Bucky. Even over the sound of the fire Bucky could hear Steves heartbeat with his ear was pressed to Steve’s chest. It didn’t have a murmur anymore; the little whooshing sound was gone. How do you change someone's heart? Steve put his hands on Bucky's face again. They were warm and still didn’t feel like Steve’s hands.

On their way out of the factory Steve knocked a solid steel door right of its hinges. Bucky flinched back at the loud sound but Steve was undeterred.

The prison yard was full of shouting and smoke. Lights were partially obscured by the thick smoke. Prisoners wearing rags clashed with natzi soldiers outfited in black armor. Flashes of blue could be seen around the corner. He knew that every shot was another dead man. Through the haze of smoke he could make out the silhouette of a short soldier disappear into ashes, another casualty in this godforsaken war. 

With his hands on his knees he gasped in air. It’s tainted with smoke but better then Brooklyn. Cold wind easily found the holes in his shirt but it wasn’t as biting as the freezing metal of Zolas table. 

“Come on, gotta keep moving.”Steve pulled him along and into the fight that looked to be quickly turning in their favor. Ok maybe this was his Steve. The loud noises left Bucky frazzled and looking at everything without really concentrating on anything. Even in the thick of battle he’d always been able to calm himself and focus on his target. Tonight nothing made sense. 

There were no more flashes of blue.

A tank rumbled towards them and Bucky didn’t have the presence of mind to move out of the way, the only thought occupying his brain was that he was about to be crushed under its massive wheels. They don’t die that night.

Instead there are large hands clapping him on the back and ruffling his hair.

“Well look he made it” Dugan hollered. 

“Is that… are you…were you… driving a tank?” Bucky asked.

“Sure as hell are.” Dugans smile was a mile wide and there was something almost disturbing about seeing such a large man as giddy as a schoolgirl. 

“How you doing Sarge?” Jones was quiet as he inspected the bruises on Bucky's face.

“Don’t you worry yourself Jonesy, I’m doing just fine.” He wiped the sweat off his face and flashed them all a smile. It was a real smile too because him and his men were alive. Dugan and Jones were right in front of him and Morita was smiling like it was christmas, holding one of those crazy blue light guns. According to Jones Dernier and Falsworth were the ones driving the tank.

Dugan let out another loud laugh “that's the spirit Sarge” he pounded him on the back again which just sent Bucky tumbling forward. Three pairs of hands reached out to catch him as the ground ran up to meet him.

“Woah hey I got you Bucky” Steve grabbed his arms and kept him upright as his feet scrambled in the mud. “It’s alright Bucky, you’re safe, don’t worry, you’re ok.” Warm hands on his face, unfamiliar and bizzare. He shook them off but they returned, drawing his face up until his eyes finally met Steves. Steve, he was safe with Steve. “You with me?” 

“Ya… ya, Dugans just crazy.” Bucky managed to regain his composure and stand without Steve supporting him.

“Alright Bucky, let's just get you into a truck.” Bucky jerked back from his friends grasp.

“No way I’m am I riding into camp on the back of a truck like some goddamn invalid. Someone get me a rifle.” Nobody moved. “Now!” The authoritative tone of a strict sargeant returned.

Morita handed him a rifle with a surprisingly quiet “here Sarge.” He felt safer and more sure of himself with the gun in his hand. He’d always been comfortable with a rifle but now it was as if he needed to be armed just to breathe easy. God this war had fucked him up. 

“Fine but if look like you're going to fall you’re riding in the truck.” Steve wasn’t happy about the current arrangement but he also knew that Bucky wouldn’t want to appear weak.

They talked while the marched but Bucky wasn’t really paying attention. One foot in front of the other, just stay standing. He could do that, right? All he knew was that Steve was right beside him and that his head hurt like hell.

When they stopped to catalog injuries and take stock of provisions. Bucky leaned up against a tree a gulped water from a canteen that someone had thrust in his hands. People were talking to him but they sounded like they were a 100 feet away. 

“Barnes, come on Sarge look at me.” Who was talking? Dark hands on his forehead and his cheeks. “He’s burning up. Lets get him sitting down somewhere.” Was he still talking to Bucky? No, he was looking at someone else. 

Hands, on his back and under his knees. The ground was moving under him but he wasn’t moving-wait was he?

“Stop stop stop,”Bucky begged to whoever was carrying him. They didn’t stop. Bile and stomach acid burned its way up his through his mouth and nose. He gagged again and could feel spit dribbling off his lips. Bucky’s stomach was churning and his head was still pounding, the very center of his brain was on fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you see any of my fics getting reposted, it was the only way I knew how to make it part of the same series. I hope you guys enjoy chapter 2.

He really is a kid Dugan decided as hoisted Barnes up into his arms. Ya sure out in the field he was a tough and talented sniper but the past few weeks had stripped him down to his very core. The kid wouldn’t stop shivering and his cheeks were flushed with fever. He looked better then when the guards showed up dragged him away and up to isolation but that wasn’t saying much. 

Barnes’s hands tightening around the collar of Dugans jacket and a low grown were the only warnings he gave before he was vomiting down the front of his jacket. Dugan tried not to jerk backwards.

“Alright kid, just a little further” Dugan muttered as Barnes continued to gag. Jones kicked a few rocks away to make room under a tree. 

“Easy, easy.” Jones helped Dugan lay Barnes down in the shade. “There you go Sarge, you can just rest.” Jones was gentle in cleaning the dried vomit off his face. Barnes groaned and made a feeble attempt to push them away but Jones just ignored it. “Someone go find the Captain”. 

God who the hell even was “the Captain?” Him and Barnes certainly knew each other but Barnes kept going on and on about how much he’d changed. Honestly Dugan was starting to think that “little Steve Rogers” was some sort of fever dream that Barnes had been having. It seemed more likely that a man suddenly shooting up a foot and over 100 pounds. 

“Hey Bucky, how you doing?” Rogers slid into their little circle and placed a gentle hand on Barnes’s face. “Come on open your eyes for me.” The kid let out a low grown but his eyelids did lift a bit. “There you go Buck.” Rogers kept his hands on Barnes’s face. “What happened?”

It’s Dugan who answered. “Don’t really know. One day the kid was delirious in a cell and the next some guards were dragging him up to isolation. We all thought he was dead. That’s what happens when someone goes there, they never come back.” 

Jones looked up from where he had two fingers pressed to the underside of Barnes’s jaw. “How was he when you found him?”

“Strapped down to god damn table. Don’t think he really knew what was happening.”

Jones was running his hand along a dark patch on Barnes’s sweater. It looked like blood but Dugan didn’t think it’s from the fight with the guards. Kid was bleeding from his head, not his ribs.

Wordlessly Dugan and Jones began to pull his shirt off. 

“Stop”Barnes’s voice is weak but still audible. He’s pulling back against them. “Stop” he whined again.

“Shh shh, It’s alright just gotta do this” Jones muttered. Rogers ran a hand through his hair.

There was dirty bandage winding around Barne’s all too prominent ribs. They’d all lost weight but his skin looked grey and paper thin. It was as if all it would take was one wrong breathe and his ribs would burst out from under his skin. The veins on his arms stood out in relief. Puffy red dots littered the soft skin in the crook of his elbow and now that Dugan looked closer they’re on his neck too. Jones pulls back the bandage on his ribs to reveal a red gash that stretched across his left side. The area around the wound is red and angry but the cut itself it neatly stitched.

“God Buck” Rogers whispers.

“There should be a medkit in one of the trucks”Dugan said and he’s already off to go find it. He doesn’t like looking at the ugly wound.

By the time he gets back with a medkit Rogers has decided that they should all rest until morning. He said that everyone was tired and that since they’re near a stream to drink from they should take advantage of it. Dugan knows that it’s because Barnes’s can’t take a step by himself but also refuses to just ride in the back of a truck.

“Alright Sarge, you gotta tell us what happened.” Jones picks through the supplies in the medkit.

Barnes’s eyes are open now, glazed over and fever bright but he seems to be taking everything in. 

“I don’t know.”

“Well you gotta to better than that.”

“I don’t know what he was doing,” his voice is hoarse “he just kept asking me questions.”

“About the army?”

“No.” Jones stopped cleaning the wound on Barnes’s ribs and they all looked at him intently.

“What did he ask?” Dugan doesn’t know if he wants the answer.

“He asked me what it felt like, when he did the stuff.” Barnes’s hands were shaking. “I-I don’t know what he was doing he would just-I don’t know-it just-it would just hurt” Barnes broke off into hiccuping sobs and folds into Roger’s waiting arms. Tears were running down his face as he kept trying to speak. “He would say that after one more injection the machine would stop hurting but it didn’t.” He shakes his head and burrows closer into Rogers. “It didn’t stop hurting.”

Nobody speaks. The only sound in their little group are Barnes’s little sobs. Roger’s face is almost as broken as Barnes’s. It really is a pathetic sight. A bunch of former POWs in the middle of enemy territory while man wearing a fucking american flag tries to console a person who’d been dragged through hell. Dugan doesn’t believe in heaven but he does believe in hell. 

By the time Barnes had regained his composure and lets Jones bandage the rest of his wounds night has well and truly fallen and and and maybe two dozen little campfires were dotted around their makeshift camp. They’re more exposed then they’d like to be and the fires certainly weren’t helping but god it felt so good to be warm.

It happened while Dugan’s on watch because of course it did. In the middle of the night Barnes started convulsing and Dugan didn’t know what to do. Barnes is laying in the dirt and his muscles are all locked up, even his teeth are tightly clenched together. He’s shaking, his head pounding against the ground while the rest of his limbs thrash uncontrollably. His eyes are half open. 

He practically screams at Jones to wake up because Mr. Smart College Guy has gotta know what to do. Everyone in who was circled around there little campfire is up now, watching their sargeant shake and convulse in the middle of a god damn forest. Rogers is shouting at Jones to do something.

“He’s seizing” Jones muttered as he stripped off his jacket and shoved it under Barnes’s head. 

“The fuck does that mean” Dugan demanded but Jones doesn’t respod. 

“Get him on his side” Jones instructed and Rogers and Dugan moved to do so. Roger’s eyes are wild and afraid as he waits for Barnes to stop shaking.

Finally his muscles relaxed and the convulsions stopped. Barnes let out a groan but other then that he’d fallen back into unconsciousness. Dugan wiped the blood that was dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” Rogers sounded so scared as he takes off his own jacket to wrap around his friend.

“I don’t know” Jones responded.

“What to do you mean you don’t know?”

“There’s hundreds of reasons why he had a seizure. I don’t know what the hell they were pumping him full of. It could be because of one of the drugs or it could be withdrawal. I don’t know.” He turned to look at Dugan. “How long was he seizing before you woke me?”

“Not long.”

“More or less than a minute?”

“Less.”

“Good.”

Morning came and the kid still hasn’t woken up but he was also still breathing and hadn’t had another seizure so that’s a plus. He looked pretty peaceful actually; all bundled up in Rogers leather jacket and the grass around him laden with early morning dew. 

When they load him into the back of a truck Dugan volunteers to ride with him. He spouts some bullshit about wanting the kid to have someone that he knows there when he wakes up and that part is true. He just neglected to mention that he looked so god damn small in the truck; his hair falling into his face and blood staining the inside of his ears.  
There’s other men in that truck who know Sergeant Barnes, other men in that truck who are smaller and younger but the thought of leaving him there with them just seemed so wrong. So he hopped into the truck bed and lets his lap become a pillow for Barnes. God this dumbass kid had him going soft.

He woke up the next day when they’re about ten miles out from camp. Dugan told him to just rest and stay in the truck but the kid never did listen. He tumbled out of the truck bed while it’s still moving and ends up with a mouthful of dirt. 

“Great job Jimmy” Dugan praised sarcastically as he extended a hand towards Barnes.

“Not gonna let that go are you?”

“I told you, when you stop being a dumbass I won’t call you Jimmy but seeing as you insist on being so stupid I’ll call you whatever the hell I want.” Barnes doesn’t respond, just stumbles towards the front where he knows that Rogers is leading this ragtag group of soldiers. 

Later that same day he found Barnes vomiting outside the med tent. He was leaning against a tree with spit and bile dripping from his lips. His hands were shaking. Dugan wanted to go over to him and say something-anything to make it better but the doesn’t think he can. He wants to say that they made it out of hell alive but he doesn’t really know if they ever truly escaped.


End file.
